


Dichotomy of Exhaustion

by crowdedangels



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angsty McAngst-Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 13:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17509565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowdedangels/pseuds/crowdedangels
Summary: She stirred the little red straw around the glass, the melting ice watering down the dark liquor.





	Dichotomy of Exhaustion

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to my ABFF Tricki for being my sounding board, rant receiver and for choosing option 'a' for the ending. Basically, blame her this ended with more angst and not 'sassy wee minx Sam.'

She stirred the little red straw around the glass, the melting ice watering down the dark liquor. She watched it spin, trying to focus on it over the ever present hum of thoughts spinning in her brain.

 

A basketball game on the tv above the bar was on low but she could just about make out the commentary, the squeak of sneakers against polished floors. It was a soothing white noise in the overly bright, too quiet airport hotel bar. 

 

Her body was a dichotomy of anxious energy and bone-deep exhaustion. She wanted something and nothing, a knock down fight and to pass out for a week. 

 

Sam watched his reflection sit next to her, pulling on the bar to twist the seat towards her. 

 

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a dive like this?” his voice was low, gravelly, dangerous but humorous. He signalled to the barman for two of whatever she was having.

 

“Drinking.” She knocked back the watery coffee liquor, both hands intertwining around the tumbler as she placed it on the bar.

 

He canted his head, his eyes imperceptibly - to anyone else - crinkling with worry. “My kind of gal.”

 

“You deal with Kinsey?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Think he’ll side with us in the budget meetings?”

 

“Not a chance.”

 

She scoffed, opening up her hands for the glass to be taken and replaced with a fresh tumbler and a generous two-fingers of alcohol.

 

Jack nodded his thanks and picked his up in two fingers, swinging and swirling the drink, watching her face in the mirror. “You okay, Carter?”

 

“I have a friend who works at the FBI.”

 

He took a mouthful, relishing the burning tingle on his gums as he swished it around his mouth before swallowing. Sucking in a breath to further the burn, he waited for her to continue. 

 

“Witsec Programme. Relocating people. New names, new places, new lives.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I want that sometimes.”

 

“A new life?”

 

“ _ A  _ life.” She pressed her thumbnail into the straw, creasing the thin plastic. “ _ My _ life.  _ My _ rules.”

 

He edged his hand closer to her, his palm flat against the bar, fingers almost touching her wrist. He didn't know if he wanted to touch her to soothe her or to warn her.

 

“Just something... _ else _ sometimes. Something easier.” 

 

He placed his arm over the back of her chair, leaning closer after checking for listeners. “Where’s this coming from, Carter?” They had had a rough few weeks - dodgy missions, deaths on a different SG team and politicians breathing down their necks - but he’d never heard her talk this way.

 

She took a beat before allowing her eyes to lock with his; earnest, darkened blue.

 

The tip of his tongue swiped across his lips, his voice low, just for her as he warned, “That wouldn’t be easier.” 

 

“Wouldn’t it?”

 

Part of him wanted to make a quip about how very  _ hard _ that would be, but he knew it wasn’t the time. His thumb drew a tentative shape across her back, gaining pressure. “Sam… right now and-and for the duration of the Programme it would not be easy. It wouldn’t be true and I wouldn’t put you through that.”

 

She bit her lips together and knocked back the liquor, telling herself the burn was the reason behind the threat of tears. 

 

“ _ But… _ ” he curled his fingers around her wrist, squeezing to get her attention and make her remember. “I know it would be  _ incredible _ .”

 

Her eyes flicked from his fingers to his eyes. 

 

He added, “Will be.” Because, surely, if they survive this whole thing they get to reap the rewards? Sometimes it was the only thing keeping him going. 

 

Her voice was watery but strong, her lips tilting to a hint of a smirk, “Incredible?”

 

He scoffed, reaching for his drink as a distraction to cupping her cheek, his mind playing quickened snippets of all the images he tried to not have when he was lonely and wanting.  “ _ Oh yeah. _ ” 

 

He watched her chug down her drink, her eyes glazing like she was having the same mental reel. 

 

He swallowed, wondering if even their fantasies were as in sync as they often were about everything else.

 

Placing her glass back on the ringed napkin, she swung from her seat, Jack’s hand guiding the motion where he held to its back. “Night, Jack.”

 

He watched her weave a path through the empty tables, her hips swaying as she swerved around chairs. “Night, Sam.”

 


End file.
